


There Your Heart Lies Also

by deadptarmigan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 13:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21075332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadptarmigan/pseuds/deadptarmigan
Summary: This is a canon-compliant story of how Harry and Ginny deal with a relationship issue. Hey, look, no trigger warning!





	There Your Heart Lies Also

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bblvnk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bblvnk/gifts).

**Chapter 1: part one**

* * *

Holy Island was a tiny, emerald dot in the sea off the coast of Wales. It snuggled up to a larger, more populous island, and was known to Muggles as a peaceful place to holiday if one didn't expect large crowds or more sophisticated entertainments than kayaking and bird-watching. To the magical population of the United Kingdom, however, it was _the _place to go bird-watching if one were a fan of the fiercely talented Quidditch playing witches known as the Holyhead Harpies. So renowned were they that a little souvenir stand was located ten feet from the Apparition point, and proudly boasted scarves and jumpers, hats and robes, all decorated rather splashingly with the Harpy emblem.

Two fresh arrivals appeared just as the souvenir seller was setting up his little shop. The tall, dark-haired man strode over to him, waited patiently as he fumbled his wand and had to speak the incantation to display the OPEN sign three separate times with increasing volume before his magic obeyed.

Harry, who was used to this type of thing, waited patiently, then immediately bought the first thing that looked it might fit and pulled it over his head, settling it right over his emerald green jumper. It clashed slightly, but Harry didn't care. His companion took slightly more care with her choice, choosing the smallest thing she could find, and rather limply threaded it in her bushy brown hair.

All the while, the wizard who sold them the team paraphernalia stammered and turned a bright, fierce red. It took some time to convince him to take Harry's sickles, but in just a few minutes he and Hermione were walking down a quiet little street. The wind blew them down it. Harry breathed deeply, enjoying the salty air and the exotic scent of the sea, letting his eyes wander around, and thinking there were far worse places Ginny could've ended up in pursuit of her professional Quidditch career.

"This is her street," said Harry, pointing at a little lane that was identical to the ones next to it.

"Are you sure?" said Hermione.

"Yes," said Harry.

"But it looks like all the others, and I can't see a street name…"

Harry gave her a level look. Even though Ron had been unexpectedly detained by Ministry protocol, Harry was not going to admit to anything out loud. But he knew exactly which street it was because he'd spent a bit of time walking up and down it searching for Ginny's place. This was just yesterday, in fact. But considering Ginny had just moved in two days ago and Harry had been busy nearly every hour since, which Hermione knew, he did not want to admit he'd carved out two very late hours from his day in order to be with his girlfriend. It was private.

Time to change the subject.

"Do you think she'll like my shirt?" Harry asked. He spread his arms, displaying the dark green shirt that had a golden talon displayed rather prominently across his chest.

"It's very supportive," said Hermione. She patted her head, where Harry could just barely make out a tiny, dark green ribbon held prisoner by her hair. "Will she like mine?"

"It shows exactly how much you love Quidditch," said Harry. "Meaning, not nearly enough." This he said in a very stern tone. It was an undeniable truth that Hermione's enthusiasm for Quidditch needed some work. "For the one everyone's calling the brightest witch of her age, you've not got your priorities in order."

"At least I wouldn't have cried like Ron did when he found out _someone _taped a Holyhead Harpies poster over his Cannons one and applied a permanent sticking charm to it," Hermione said, smirking.

Harry shook his head and said sadly, "Kreacher must have—"

"Harry!" Hermione said, laughing. "Don't blame Kreacher."

"I admit nothing," said Harry.

Their conversation had carried them down the little lane, past a group of wizards in Harpies regalia, who had left off their conversation and were now staring at Harry, mouths gaping open. Harry gave them a pleasant nod but continued past them.

Harry wasn't surprised. While Holyhead was not a strictly magical community, there was quite a large wizarding population due to the Harpies, the support staff for one of the most successful teams in the league, and fans. The Ministry had gone so far as to buy up property on the edge of the town closest to the stadium and cast Muggle repelling charms on those streets and avenues. Witches and wizards could wear robes and support the Harpies as much as they wanted without worrying over the Statute of Secrecy. It was no wonder that everyone on the street was now turning toward Harry and staring. There would be no anonymity here.

So he ignored it as much as he could. The closer he got to Ginny's door, the easier it got. By the time he had opened the gate and followed Hermione through it, the stares and whispers of "Harry Potter!" and "Do you see him? He's right there!" had receded enough in his awareness that they might not even exist. When the door opened at his first knock and Ginny stepped into his arms and gave him a very thorough greeting kiss, nothing else mattered.

It didn't last nearly as long as Harry wanted. They were on a public street, Hermione was standing right there… Ginny parted from him. "Hi, Harry," she said.

"Hi," said Harry.

"Hi, Ginny," said Hermione.

"Hi, Hermione," said Ginny. "Not that I mind but, don't you usually have an appendage named Ron you drag around with you?"

"Oh, he got caught up with Ministry protocol," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "He might catch up with us later, but who knows?"

"So it's just the three of us," said Hermione. She looked around at the street and the cottages. "This is a cute little neighborhood. Are you all Harpies?"

"Yeah," said Ginny. "This street is just for us – support staff, players, everyone. That way if any fans get boisterous, the manager can just close off the street." She paused. "That's never happened, though. It's just in case."

"That's a smart policy," said Hermione.

"So, I haven't done a lot of sight-seeing, so I won't be much of a tour guide, but do you want to see some of the island? Some of the other players mentioned a few things… there's a bazaar that opens pretty soon. I thought we could check out the stadium first and then go browse…"

"The stadium?"

"Yes, Hermione, the stadium," said Harry. "I've only been wanting to see it since they signed Ginny on!"

"I just didn't know there was anything to see…"

Ginny described her first few days as a professional Quidditch player with enthusiasm. It was September 15 and not only had a new term of Hogwarts started, but it appeared Quidditch followed almost the same schedule. The first day was signing papers, picking a cottage, and having a small party with the rest of the players and support staff. Harry knew all this, as he had visited her at two in the morning that night. But he listened quietly and held her hand as they walked.

The stadium was carved into the side of Holyhead Mountain – literally. "They say they tried to build it to look like a Harpy roost," Ginny said proudly. A security wizard nodded at them as they entered it. Harry looked around, noting the different elements that made it look that way: some were subtle, and others blatant, but even Hermione murmured her appreciation of the artistry.

They entered the top of the stadium and looked down at the Quidditch pitch below. All three took a seat near the top and just looked down at the view.

"So this is where you play?" Hermione asked.

"Practice… play league games… play friendlies… this is where all of it happens," said Ginny.

"What's a friendly?" Hermione asked.

"Mock games — usually the reserves playing against the regulars, but sometimes we switch it up," said Ginny. "It's like a real Quidditch game in every way, though."

Harry leaned back in the stadium seat, idly toying with Ginny's braid. Even while talking to Hermione — who could dampen anyone's enthusiasm for Quidditch — she was vibrant in talking of the sport she loved. Her hands moved as she talked, her eyes sparkled, and Harry couldn't quite take his eyes off of her. It reminded him of the first days after the war, when they were finding their way back to each other, when they would sit and talk for hours about what anything and nothing and everything. When they were too exhausted to talk of the deep things — the loss of Fred, the war, Voldemort's death, the Horcruxes — they spoke of Quidditch. Her passion for it had made him want to resign his new position at the Ministry and try to find a team willing to take him on.

"Harry? What are you thinking about?" Ginny addressed him directly. Her fingers were curled on his thigh.

"Thinking if the Harpies would want a reserve seeker," Harry said, grinning at her.

"Compelling thought, but you've got a bit of extra equipment not traditionally accepted by the Harpies," said Ginny. The tickle of her fingers against his thigh reminded him of the particular equipment she was referencing.

"Polyjuice," Harry said promptly.

"Quidditch matches last more than an hour — what will you do, carry a hip flask?" Ginny shook her head and tsked.

"Transfiguration?" Harry said.

Ginny squeezed his thigh in mock alarm. "Don't you dare. Transfiguration isn't your strong suit — you might do something permanent." The look she gave him was like the sun coming out, warming his body. It was a reminder of all the ways they enjoyed that particular part of Harry together, and it made him want to cut the day with Hermione short and take Ginny home to her cottage.

But that would be rude, so instead he said: "Are you telling me you _wouldn't _love the Girl Who Lived?"

Hermione snorted. "You think awfully highly of your abilities, if you think you could transfigure a — a bat into a — a—" But her failure at knowing even the slightest bit about Quidditch made her fumble the innuendo. "Goal post? Anyway. I doubt you could make one of those."

Harry and Ginny were laughing. "Goal post!" Ginny crowed. "Honestly, Hermione!"

They teased Hermione all the way out of the stadium. Now that they'd seen it, Ginny wanted to go explore the bazaar she'd heard about, and with fog blowing in from the sea, they wanted to see it before it began to rain.

"I read that it was built on Roman ruins," said Hermione. "There was a Roman outpost here, you know. And of course, the Romans almost always used locations where they found standing stones. The ancient magical peoples here built them—"

"But did they build goal posts?" Ginny interrupted.

Harry laughed while Hermione groaned.

As they came out of the stadium, she took his hand and linked her fingers with his. "So how long is Ron with the Aurors today?" she asked. "I ask only because it's nice not having him breathe down my neck for daring to want a bit of a snog." She paused. "And for any Quidditch innuendo that may have happened"

"He should be out around three," Harry said.

"And I'm not sure he'll join us," said Hermione. "He probably didn't sleep well last night—"

"Ron? Not sleep well?" Ginny asked in disbelief.

Hermione shrugged. "It's the first time this has happened so far, so I really don't know what to expect."

"The first time what—"

But Ginny was interrupted by Hermione's honest to goodness squeal. Just outside the stadium was a little path. They'd walked along it a little way, skirting around the base of Holyhead Mountain, and had come to a couple of sentinel oak trees. Between them, light sparked. As they passed through, a tingle went through his body. Before him was an open-air market of so many magical things that Harry could not help but gape around him. It was as though all the shops in Diagon Alley lost their walls and the proprietors jumbled their wares around. Custom designed brooms to match the Harpies colors soared by themselves through the air; magical tapestries fluttered in the wind depicting everything from battles to lovers reuniting; potioneers hawked their wares, and an extraordinarily tall, thin man carried around a tray of food.

"I've never seen anything like this!" Hermione said in wonder.

The three of them spent the next few hours ignoring the stares and whispers of everyone who noticed Harry Potter was shopping among them. Harry bought Ginny a small gift for her cottage: a tree wrought of metal and colored almost realistically. "It changes with the season, you see," said the beaming proprietor, pointing out that some of the leaves were threaded with yellow.

Harry didn't buy it because it was a fairly impressive bit of magic. He wrapped his arm around Ginny's shoulder and whispered in her ear: "Remember that tree...?"

A light flush spread over her cheeks. The shared memory leapt between them. Harry remembered kissing her under a tree that looked remarkably like the one wrought of metal and magic that he held in his hand. It was under that tree that they'd taken the first steps toward real intimacy. Hiding from students, professors, Dumbledore and his lessons on Horcruxes, they had found joy in one another. Unable to help it, Harry's gaze dropped to her chest. There was a reason why that time with her had felt like it was from someone else's life. Warmth pooled low in his belly and he shifted a little. Then a little more when Ginny gave him a knowing look and a wink.

It made him hold her a little closer the rest of their walk around the bazaar. His arm was either draped around her or they were holding hands.

_The tree was an excellent purchase, _thought Harry.

"Are either of you hungry?" Hermione asked, quite some time later.

Harry looked up from what he was looking at: it was a saucy statue of what was advertised to be a mandrake, but looked more like a garden gnome. It was rooted to its stand by a tendril of root that looked remarkably like the beater's bat they were talking to earlier. Its wide brown mouth opened in a leering grin every few seconds — just after it waggled its bum.

"I'm hungry," said Ginny.

"I could eat," said Harry. His attention was drawn back to the mandrake gnome.

"Just buy it, Harry," said Ginny.

"Oh, what, no..."

What would he do with such a thing? But Harry couldn't deny how funny it was, with its homely face and absurdly large—

"I'll buy it," said Ginny. "How much is it?" The witch who was selling this particular item tried to protest, tried to thrust it into Harry's hands, but Ginny knew exactly what to do with people who were overly awed by Harry. Within moments, they were wandering away, mandrake in hand.

"Thank you, Ginny," said Harry.

"You're welcome," said Ginny.

Hermione led them back toward a booth that sold all sorts of food stuffs – hardly any of which Harry recognized. "I don't even know what to order," he whispered in Ginny's ear. "What – is it all Welsh food?"

"I don't know," Ginny whispered back. "It's the first time I've been here."

Hermione managed to choose several things from the menu that might be difficult to pronounce, but turned out to be quite delicious. By unspoken agreement, the three of them carried the food in bags and left the bazaar area. Ginny pointed out another small path. "I heard there's a good spot just ahead," she said. So the three of them ate amicably, overlooking the Irish Sea that glittered grey and white under the overcast sky. Seabirds wheeled around and Harry felt warm and content.

"Well, it's nearly three," Hermione announced.

Harry started. "You're leaving?"

"I want to meet Ron as soon as he can get away," she said.

"Tell him I said hello, and thanks for not coming," Ginny said, smirking.

"I'll be sure to tell him that," Hermione said dryly.

They packed up all their impromptu picnic things, and walked her back to the Apparition point. Hermione stooped to hug Ginny. "This is such a lovely spot, congratulations again," she said. "I'll look forward to coming to visit again."

"And go to some games?" Ginny said slyly.

"Yes – I will go," said Hermione.

Ginny laughed, hugged her again, it was less than a minute before they were alone again. Hand in hand, they wandered around the wizarding part of Holyhead. There were all sorts of hidden marvels: a large mural along one wall depicted the sea life off the Welsh coast, and a great whale surfaced every now and again, looking as real as could be; a playground for children had fairies in the trees, their twinkling light looking like candles, even in the full light of day; and once, Harry tripped to the side and triggered a path through a hedge to appear, leading them to a shady, secret spot that once more reminded him of the more secluded areas of Hogwarts.

"Remind you of anything?" Harry said. There was a small gazebo, and he set both the metal tree and the mandrake on the railing. Then, celebrating the fact they were alone and private, he pressed his lips to hers. There was no real reason to hold back, so he didn't.

She nipped at his bottom lip. "Hogwarts," she murmured. "Fifth year."

Harry groaned at the feel of her tongue touching his. "Where we started," he said. It didn't take much for the warmth between them to turn into heat. Her hands stroked his chest, a fingernail traced the pattern of the Harpy talon, and Harry felt it even through the layers of the t-shirt and his jumper. There was the familiar sensation of falling and his body heated, tightened, and hardened as he kissed her.

It was so much more now. It no longer felt like a piece of someone else's life. It felt like a piece of his own life – hard won that it was. At times – like now – he was so mindful of all that he'd almost lost that he held her a little tighter, kissed her a little harder, and fell a little more sweetly under the spell of her touch and the feel of her lips against his.

His hands slid along her back, up her sides, brushed against the curve of her breast.

"Harry!" Ginny pulled away with a gasp.

"What – sorry—"

"No, don't apologize," she said. Color bloomed in her cheeks. Her hand was on his back and slid downward. "I just think I have a cottage with a bed and no chance of anyone related to me walking in, for once."

"That… right, let's do that," said Harry.

Their ambling walk had ended. Ginny pulled him away from the gazebo and back toward the public street. Their arms were wrapped around each other, and Harry was grateful for Ginny's presence. Walking down the street in his state might have garnered a few more stares than he usually got just for being Harry Potter. She laughed when he sped up.

"Eager to get to the goal post?" Ginny said, laughing at him. Tendrils of brilliant red hair had escaped the confines of her braid and her face was still flushed. It hit Harry again how beautiful she was.

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "Remember, Hermione's sleeping with a Keeper. _I _prefer to look for the Snitch… you know, that tiny little thing everyone says is so hard to find—"

"And yet you find it so easily," Ginny said in a low voice, and licked her lips.

They were paused on the cobblestones, staring at each other. If Harry kissed her now, they would be certain to be photographed – it would be in the _Daily Prophet _tomorrow. He almost didn't care. "Yes, well," he said, swallowing. "You only really win the game if you catch the Snitch." His lips quirked into a smile. "_Then_we can think about that goal post."

"Damn it, let's hurry."

Five minutes later, Ginny was tapping her wand against her door in a complicated rhythm. It opened a moment later.

The first and last time he was here, it had been very dark, and they'd gone straight to her bed. Now Harry looked around. It was small but comfortable. It was fairly bare of furniture and much of it looked as though Molly had forced Ginny to take it.

"I thought I'd buy a few things in a bit," Ginny said, as though reading his mind.

"Maybe a sofa?" Harry suggested. "So we can sit and listen to the wireless out here…"

"I'll get one," Ginny promised.

As soon as they set down the mandrake and the tree, Harry took her in his arms. The immediate intensity they'd created in the gazebo was banked now, so they teased each other. Harry brushed his thumb across her cheek and nipped lightly at her lips. "I've been wanting to hold you all day," he said in a low voice.

She looped her arms around his neck. "I think we've been touching each other most of the day." Her fingernails tickled the back of his neck and Harry kissed her again.

"You know what I mean," Harry said.

"Of course I do," said Ginny.

They sort of swayed out of the small living room down the hall toward Ginny's bedroom. Her hands were busy, tugging his shirt over his head and pulling his sweater up to his armpits so she could touch his chest. Warmth once more turned to heat as her thumbs brushed over his nipples. He gathered her up and kissed her hard. Her busy fingers slid down his chest, his stomach, and reached his belt.

Her bedroom was cool and dark. Ginny separated from him to set the metal tree on the headboard. She turned to him with a grin and said, "There. That way we're under the tree again."

"We're going to scandalize it," Harry told her. As they'd swayed down the hall, she'd done good work undressing him. He pulled his sweater off all the way and dropped his trousers, kicking them off his feet as he walked toward her. His pants were left on, and as soon as he was close enough to her, Ginny reached out and stroked her finger over him.

As much as he didn't want to interrupt the pleasure he got from her touch, it was time she joined him.

He'd always loved watching her undress, helping her undress, or even undressing her totally himself. Right now, the sun was setting, and her room was dimly lit. But as she tugged her robes off, revealing a simple white shift that buttoned in the back. Humming a little in pleasure, Harry moved to stand behind her and shifted her braid so it went over her shoulder. "I love it when you wear this," he said.

"I know," she said.

Every time Harry undid a button, more of her creamy skin was revealed. In the dim light, her freckles looked like a dusting of shadows. The curve of her back dipped inward at the base, shadows arranging themselves in such a way that Harry found nearly endlessly intriguing. He slid it off her shoulders, kissed them, running his hands up her belly to cup her breasts. Her bra was made of thick cotton, but he could feel her nipples, stiff against his palms. With some reluctance, Harry quickened his leisurely pace, tugging her bra up as she pulled her knickers down.

Then they were atop her comforter. Harry had noticed the other night that the comforter and sheets themselves were charmed to smell fresh and flowery. When they tumbled down to the bed, the scent released, filling his nostrils with it. His thumb brushed over her belly just as her fingers found him through his pants and circled around him, squeezing lightly.

"Does that feel good?"

"You know it does," Harry said hoarsely. Her thumb found a damp spot where the tip of him jutted toward her. She pressed down and Harry clenched his teeth.

"Good," she said smugly.

A shiver went up his spine at her tone and he rolled her over onto her back and kissed her. "Time for me to find that snitch," he said. Then he began a slow descent down her body. He tasted the hollow of her throat, her shoulders, and the valley between her breasts. Each of her dusky rose nipples were given attention until she was moaning and writhing under him. His tongue circled around her navel and then he moved his head further down to find what he was truly looking for.

His shoulders nudged her legs further apart until she was spread totally open for him. He gave her light, nipping little kisses on her folds, breathing in deeply as he did, feeling mildly intoxicated by the scent. Her body shifted a little, and he glanced up, not surprised to find her propped up on her elbows looking down on him. They both liked the view when he did this.

They both liked it when he did this which was why he was shocked when — just as he was first using his tongue to nudge her sweet spot — she stopped him.

"What?" Harry said, confused. "Why?"

"Not much of a challenge when you can see exactly what you're looking for," Ginny said breathlessly.

"Challenge?" Harry asked. Arousal had permeated so much of him that it was difficult to understand what she meant. Either she was taking the Quidditch metaphor too far or he wasn't taking it far enough.

"Let's see if you can find it when it's a little harder," said Ginny. Harry moved away from her, feeling a little baffled. Ginny had _never _stopped him before; if anything, she would keep him there where she wanted him.

Harry was so confused that it took him a moment to realize that she was grabbing a pillow and positioning it just so in the center of the bed. His erection throbbed before he quite realized what she was doing. "Ohhhh," he said when she knelt next to the pillow and leaned over. Unable to help it, he touched himself, stroking it, even as he moved to position himself behind her.

"See?" she said. "It's more of a challenge."

She was right, of course. Harry tugged his pants down to his thighs, freeing himself, and rubbing it against her bum. Her braid bunched at her neck, and with a small tug, Harry pulled the hair tie out and threaded his fingers through it, loosening the plaits. It was soft and silky, and Harry played with it until her hips squirmed and he recognized the signs of her impatience. His palm brushed down her back to grip her hip as he took himself in hand to position his penis at her entrance. She was hot and wet already and he slid in as smooth as butter.

"Fuck, Ginny," he said.

"That's the idea," she said.

Harry could hardly think after that, could only focus on pressing inside of her. Sweat beaded on his brow and across his chest. They no longer spoke; the only sounds in the room were their sharp breaths.

"Weren't you — going to look for that Snitch?" Ginny asked, looking back over her shoulder at him. His hand was in her hair again. Bright red strands were twisted around his fingers. For a moment, Harry was so focused on how good he felt, how close he was, how wonderful it was to feel her wet, silky heat all around him that he could not comprehend why she was talking about Quidditch.

"Oh!" he said finally. He gently untangled his fingers from, and slid it under under her body. He paused for a moment to toy with her nipples, enjoying the way her body pushed against his as he did so. Then he moved his hand down to just above where their bodies were joined.

Her knees widened.

"Helping me find it?" Harry said breathlessly. "Aren't you going to accuse me of cheating?"

"I _want _you to find it," she said.

And she moaned when he did. Her head dropped down to the bed as his fingers found that nub of hers and began to rub. It was slick and hard, but Harry kept at it, his own pleasure goaded to further heights by her whimpers.

Neither one of them lasted much longer. Harry's thrusts were sharper and shorter. His eyes were tightly closed and all he could think about was the sensation of being inside her, surrounded by her, enveloped totally in the heat they created together. When she came, her body squeezed him tightly, rippling around him. He'd been waiting for this, and he finally allowed himself to relinquish control and push into her three more times before he cried out and came.

Sharp, sweet pleasure slowly turned languid and dreamy. Harry's heartbeat slowed before his breathing evened out. Ginny turned the covers back on her bed and slid into it. With a clumsiness born of the languor that now suffused his limbs, Harry followed after. "That was brilliant," he said, awed. And he couldn't help but be, a little. If he'd thought their love life was excellent when they were first starting out, they were only getting better with practice.

"You're brilliant," Ginny mumbled into his chest.

Harry couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "I told you, I was a Seeker for a reason." He sighed and stroked her back. "I do think you're lucky, you know, playing Quidditch for a living."

There was a quiet moment. They both knew that Harry could've joined any Quidditch team he wanted (minus the Harpies). Whether it was due to his name or his talent, no one would have refused him. It was better that he was an Auror, there was a genuine need for dark wizard catchers, and Harry _knew _that he was needed. But damn, he missed flying.

"I know," Ginny said. "I was thinking I'd get a tattoo of a snitch… that way you can try to catch it any time you want."

All angst over his career decisions fled Harry's mind. He could so see her doing that… he'd seen the sort of magical tattoos she meant. It could be charmed to move as swiftly as a snitch… Harry would have an excuse to look over Ginny's body as thoroughly as he once had the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. This idea pleased him so much that he pressed kisses against her shoulder, her neck, her jaw, and finally her lips.

"That's a wonderful idea," he said.

"I wasn't totally serious, but now I think I might be," Ginny said, laughing.

Harry fitted their bodies more comfortably together. For long minutes, they just kissed the way they had the first few times, when everything was new. His body sated, he kissed her just for the sheer pleasure of it. When they finally drew apart, her eyes were half-lidded and glittering in the twilight.

"Harry, will you stay with me tonight?" she asked abruptly.

"I – yes, of course," said Harry.

It was a slight milestone. They'd spent the night together a couple of times; the advantage of dating a seventh year at Hogwarts last year was that Harry could get a room at one of the small inns at Hogsmeade and Ginny could stay with him when she had a free weekend. But never where they lived. She'd never slept an entire night in his bed at Grimmauld Place – Ron lived there, too. And Harry had _certainly _never had the brass to sleep in Ginny's room at the Burrow. The times they'd even had sex there were few and far between, and almost always initiated by Ginny. And accepted by Harry because how was he meant to say no to her?

"Yes," he said again. "Yes, I want to."

"Oh, good," said Ginny.

They kissed again.

"I bet you're happy right now," said Harry.

"Because you're staying the night?"

He shook his head. "Because you're dating a Seeker and not a Keeper—"

Ginny's laugh interrupted him. "Yes. Yes, I am." She pulled back a little, and her gaze went a little distant. "That reminds me – what was going on with Ron today? I thought both of you were meant to have the day off?"

"Oh, that was a bit of Ministry protocol," Harry said, rolling his eyes a little. "Remember I told you we were going on a raid?"

"Yes," said Ginny.

"Well, apparently back when Voldemort was grabbing for power the _first _time, he had his Death Eaters set up sensory charms wherever they were. They'd catch on an Auror's clothes and Voldemort would have access to them – listening to what they say, seeing what they do if the charm was strong enough… Robards was telling us that's how a lot of people were turned. Death Eaters found the families of the people fighting them, and – well, you can guess."

"Indeed," said Ginny. Her voice was troubled and her brow was furrowed. "But what's that got to do with Ron?"

"He's fine, don't worry," said Harry. "Well, they still do it. Ron got a couple on him when he brushed by a vase…" Harry himself had seen it. Little embers had caught on Ron's cloak and then melted into it. "So the Ministry has a protocol that if you've got a sensory charm on you, you've got to go to a Ministry safe house. It's a mandatory twenty-four hours… that way they can be sure it's not leaking information to anyone anymore…"

"Ron had to go into _hiding_?" Ginny said, aghast.

"Just to a Ministry safe house," Harry assured her. "He isn't in any real danger."

Ginny shifted onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Harry stroked her arm, willing her to understand that it was simply a matter of the Ministry being cautious. But it was long moments before he felt her relax. "I guess it's smart," she said, sighing. She turned her head so she was looking at him; Harry reached up to brush her hair out of her face.

"It's smart," Harry admitted. "I mean, it isn't a stupid policy. I don't know if it's necessary just at this moment… _The Daily Prophet_ talks about all the Aurors. Death Eaters… dark wizards… they all already know who we are."

There was a long silence. "I don't like the idea," Ginny said. Harry guessed she was worried about his safety.

"It's safe," he promised her.

She looked at him. "Will you tell me?"

"Of course," said Harry.

Later, he would remember this conversation with regret, wishing he could somehow go back to it and coax what she meant, exactly, out of her instead of assuming that he knew. But instead, he spoke of lighter things as twilight deepened around them until they were laughing together, and Harry was much too certain the subject of safe houses and Ministry protocol was put to rest.

* * *

**Chapter 2: part two**

* * *

The first time Harry had to follow Ministry protocol and stay a mandatory twenty-four hours at a safe house, it was late November. The safe house might be safe, but it was somewhere frigid. Harry huddled under the covers all night and wished he were in bed with Ginny at her cottage – or even in his own bed at Grimmauld Place. He was too cold to be choosy, and none of his heating charms were particularly successful. There was nothing he wanted to do than to leave this place, and he was very grumpy and annoyed by the time he was given the clear to escape.

Instead of going to the Ministry or to Grimmauld Place, Harry Apparated directly to the Harpies stadium – it was nominally only supposed to be used by the Harpies and the support staff, but a little over a month ago, Harry had been given clearance to do so. The manager thought he might want to avoid the crowds that gathered whenever he walked down the lane, and Harry was very grateful.

Ginny was playing another friendly today. Quidditch season was in full swing; the Harpies had played three matches, and Gwenog Jones was pushing them to train harder, fly faster, and play more friendlies to hone their skills. It was why he hadn't bothered to send a patronus message to Ginny that he wouldn't be around for twenty four hours. With her training during the week, she was nearly always dead to the world on a Tuesday evening.

And Wednesday evenings weren't much better, though Harry fervently hoped the friendly she was playing today wouldn't tire her out too much. As he mounted the steps that led to the practice area, his anticipation grew. There hadn't been much to do last night except shiver and wish he were with Ginny, and now that he was poised to be with her the rest of the day and night, he couldn't wait. The wank he'd had the night before just hadn't been satisfying, and neither had the one he'd had this morning in the tiny, cramped shower stall. Even if Ginny wasn't up for anything but cuddling, Harry would be fine, he just wanted to set eyes on her.

The moment he crested the top of the stadium he did. It took only a moment for him to pick her out of the crowd of fourteen players. She was far away and bent low over her broom, but Harry recognized the spark of red hair. He stood at the top of the stadium and watched her play: she wove in and out of the other Chasers, passing the Quaffle to and from her team mates, and Harry felt a swell of pride when he realized once more how damn good she was.

A few minutes later, their eyes locked. She'd been looking out for a Bludger and must have noticed him standing there. Their eyes met and Harry felt that familiar thrill of connection. Then he thought he might've been wrong, that she didn't recognize him, because when she dove back into her practice, something was… off. Instead of leading the others in how fast they passed the Quaffle, she trailed behind. The intimate dance the Chasers did was broken, and Harry didn't understand why.

"WEASLEY!" he thought he heard Gwenog shout over the sounds of the practice.

Ginny bobbed in the air in front of the team captain, nodding every now and then, and then turned her broom and went back to the other Chasers and joined their formation.

Harry watched the rest of the practice. Ginny was back on form… a little more daring, even, and focused on what she was doing. Caution stirred in him. That initial glare, the distraction, and now the fierce way she played… he knew her moods well enough to know one thing: He was in trouble.

He just didn't know _why_.

Ginny didn't go to the changing rooms with the rest of the Harpies. Instead, she flew straight for him. Her eyes flashed at him, and there was high color on her cheeks.

"Ginny, I—"

"Not now, Harry," she said.

They didn't often fight. In general, it was as easy to be with Ginny as it was to be by himself. But he could sense a row coming on; the faint smell of ozone around her told him she expected one too. But usually, Harry had at least some idea of what was the matter, and he didn't like that her temper was stirring and he didn't have any idea what he was meant to have done.

She stalked out of the stadium. Harry matched her, step for step, and kept stealing sidelong glances at her.

"If you would just tell me _why_—"

Ginny shot a glance at him over her shoulder. "I _asked _you to tell me when you had to go into hiding," she said in the loudest whisper Harry'd ever heard.

Without meaning to, he glanced around, hoping no one on the street had heard her. "Can we talk about this at your cottage?"

"You're the one who wanted me to tell you!"

Harry had to admit that was true. He followed after her as she stalked forward. Indignation rose in him the closer they got to the cottage. It wasn't like he'd been keeping it from her. Tuesdays were always busy for her; they rarely even saw each other on Tuesdays. Wednesdays were only a bit better. Never _once _had she hinted that she resented that, so why was she so angry that he wasn't able to be around?

"You're always tired on Tuesdays anyway," he said.

"It's not about that," she said loudly, spinning on him.

"Then why are you so mad—"

"I told you, I just wanted you to _tell _me!"

Their voices were raised and it was a very good thing they were now standing outside her cottage. Harry could feel the back of his neck itching; the last thing he wanted was for this to get back to the papers.

"We need to get this inside if we don't want this in the _Prophet_," Ginny said through clenched teeth.

"Right," said Harry.

Her temper broke over him the moment they set foot in her living room. She slammed the door so hard that the mandrake gnome statue that rested on her mantle toppled from its perch and onto the ground.

"Feel better?" Harry asked. "You almost hurt Damacles!"

"I'm sure he's fine," Ginny said. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. "I can't _believe _you didn't tell me you were going into hiding when I specifically asked you to do so."

"I only didn't because it was Tuesday," Harry bit out. His indignation was turning into true annoyance. "You're always busy on Tuesdays… I hardly ever even come over Tuesdays. I didn't think you'd even miss me."

"It's not about missing you," Ginny said. "It's about _you going into hiding _and not telling me."

"I was perfectly safe," Harry said. There was something in her tone that instead of goading him, made him back down. She was right; he ought to have remembered to tell her. And fighting her about it would just make the fight worse. So he swallowed and stepped closer to her. "I'm sorry I forgot to tell you, Ginny." He offered her a small smile when her shoulders relaxed by a degree. "It was stupid… I didn't realize."

Her face was wide open to him as he looked at her. He watched the anger slip into worry and he realized that was the root of it. Then even that eased into resolution and a small smile that almost – but not quite – reached her eyes. "Thank you for saying that," she said. "It's not like I'm being _clingy _or anything, so don't think that—"

"I _don't _think that," Harry said, interrupting her.

"Well," she said, shaking her head. "Anyway. Thanks." There was an awkward little silence as she unclenched slowly. "I'm going to take a shower," she said. "I didn't have a chance after practice…"

At any other moment, Harry would have offered to join her, but he didn't think that would go over very well at the moment. He expected she needed time to think about everything; he'd learned a while ago that when Ginny lost her temper, she took time putting it back together again. He'd gotten quite good at judging how much time was necessary, but this time he didn't know. "Do you want me to be here when you get back?" he asked bluntly.

Surprise flitted across her face. "Of course," she said.

Relief warmed him. "Okay," he said.

While she showered, Harry puttered about the living room, picked up Damacles and replaced him on the mantle. Then he went in Ginny's room. A few of Harry's things – like a toothbrush and the razor the Delacour's gave him for his seventeenth – had migrated here, and he tidied up everything that he owned. Then, that small task completed, he threw himself down on the bed and spread his arms. The tree he'd bought her for a house-warming present had a place on the headboard. Harry watched as one of the metal leaves made the transformation from yellow to brown. The edges began to curl up. They were well into autumn now, and half the leaves were off the tree.

Something about her anger bothered him. He'd been privy to several different moods of Ginny's in the time he'd known her – most were wonderful, some weren't so wonderful – but this one felt different. For example, the way she'd flown after she'd caught sight of him at the stadium. All during the time when she was preparing to try out for a professional Quidditch team – something that had begun the summer after the war, continued through her seventh year at Hogwarts, and escalated in intensity tenfold in the months after she'd graduated – he'd never seen her be distracted like that while playing Quidditch. Ron and George had taken turns playing at trying to rile her up enough to miss a goal, but she hadn't wavered. Merlin knew, there was no one who quite got under Ginny's skin the way Ron did, but she'd still flown beautifully.

Ginny came out of the bathroom just then wearing only a towel. Harry sat up, immediately distracted, but was determined to get to the heart of it. "Is it just about not telling you about the safe house?" he asked without preamble. "Or is there something else?"

"There's nothing else," she said. The blazing look he loved was on her face and she dropped her towel.

Harry leaned forward, distracted. "I guess – yeah." One of the things he'd learned was that she wouldn't get naked in front of him if she were still mad. He felt a surge of relief, but was still surprised when she strode over to the bed, climbed atop, and straddled his lower legs. Her hair was still damp, and beads of water dripped from the ends.

Her fingers trailed along his shaft. "Are you distracted?" she asked.

Harry shook his head back and forth. "No," he said. "But I didn't have anything to do last night at the safe house, so I, uh…"

Something flashed in her eyes, something Harry could not easily define. It puzzled him and he would've asked her about it, but then her slim, cool fingers were tugging at the fabric of his trousers pants and circling around him. With the heat building in him, Harry had to give in to the sensation of her touch.

Harry stopped questioning the intensity of her touch but reveled in it and tried to match it – though she didn't give him much of a chance. It was one of the infrequent times that Ginny wanted total control. She kept her hands on his chest, pressing down firmly, and when she finally mounted him, she took control of the pace and depth. Her eyes never left his and Harry never looked away from her, just enjoyed the moment, the heat between them, and the way she rode him.

At the end, when they were both sweaty and panting, she pressed down particularly hard and said: "Next time, _you'll tell me_."

At this point, Harry would have agreed to anything. "Yes. I will. Fuck yes. Fuck, Ginny." But he also knew that he wouldn't forget next time. Though he didn't quite understand _why _he knew that it mattered so much to her. He saw it in her eyes and the set of her lips, the anger she'd displayed earlier… it _mattered _to her.

And if it mattered to her, it mattered to him.

So he wouldn't forget.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

And he didn't.

"Looks like you got caught, Potter," Robards said cheerfully. He was leading a group of Aurors down through a sewer system.

Harry, feet hurting and eyes watering from the smell, swore loudly. He turned around and tried to spot it, wishing he could just… flick it off with his wand. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"There are worse things," said Robards.

A vision of Ginny's face – when she'd been so angry with him the first time this had happened – swam in his mind's eye. "There are," Harry said. But this wasn't with very much feeling. Though that had been over a month ago and there was no indication whatsoever that Ginny held it over him, he couldn't remember how perplexed he'd been. Even now, he had an instinct that couldn't dislodge that he was missing something about her anger that day, despite the fact she'd assured him more than once that it was over and done with.

"I guess," Harry said reluctantly.

Robards pulled a token out of his robes. "We're still trying to get the Minsitry to revisit the protocol," he said. "There's no point in it. We're just rounding up Death Eaters now, they already know who we are."

"My thoughts exactly," Harry muttered.

He took the token Robards gave him, spun on his heel, and Disapparated.

Before he even opened the door to the safe house, he sent a patronus message to Ginny. It was mid-morning on a Friday and the Harpies had back to back friendlies this entire week as they prepared to go up against Puddlemere United two weeks from now. Despite that he knew she was busy, and her teammates would likely be shocked by Harry's patronus, he sent it anyway. "I got caught by a charm again. I'm here for a day."

Hours passed. At first, Harry wasn't bothered. Ginny was busy, obviously, and she couldn't exactly stop flying and send him a return patronus. But when Harry looked up from where he sat on the rickety chair and noticed it was twilight, he felt a twinge of concern.

As the stars came out, worry began to gnaw on him. He couldn't think of a single time that Ginny had simply ignored a message like that. Flinging himself on the small, hard bed provided by the Ministry, Harry's imagination took a dark turn. What if she'd been hurt during the friendly?

His thoughts zoomed away from him, and it wasn't until a silvery light filled the room and Harry saw the glow of her patronus that he realized he was being slightly ridiculous.

"Thank you for letting me know. Be safe," it said.

Harry felt a pang of disappointment.

It took quite a bit of energy to conjure a patronus and it was even more difficult to send it with a message. But even still… her message was a little… perfunctory. It was enough, however, to know that he'd been worried over nothing, and he was able to turn over and go to sleep.

The first thing he did when the Ministry gave him the all-clear to leave was Apparate to the stadium. It was Saturday and the Harpies weren't playing, but Harry's instincts told him she was here, though he planned to check the Burrow next. It was a short walk from the stadium; Harry kept his head ducked and the hood of his cloak pulled over it.

Not even ten minutes later, Harry knocked on her door. The longer he held still, the more aware of the cold and damp he was. Chilly fingers of mist brushed the back of his neck and he shifted from foot to foot. He was about to leave and go look for Ginny over at the Burrow when the door opened with a creak.

No one stood at the door, and this time it was unease that brushed him.

"Ginny?" he said.

"Come in, Harry, I'm back here," she said.

He shut the door behind him and stood in the middle of the living room. "Do you want me to make you some tea?" he asked. Her voice was thick as though with a cold.

"I have some, but thanks," she said.

When he reached the door to her bedroom and saw she was wrapped up in a thick blanket, tea in her lap, and looking quite miserable, a pang of sympathy went through him.

"Have a bit of a cold? I can get some pepper-up—"

She shook her head.

As she moved, Harry noticed their mandrake figurine was nestled in bed next to her. "Have you and Damacles got something going on I need to know about?"

She shook her head again, and to his great alarm, he saw tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. _She's been crying, _he thought. What he'd taken for illness was in fact the lingering physical effects of having a long cry.

He sat down at the edge of the bed. "Ginny? What is it?"

"I hate it that you have to go to a safe house, but I don't know _why_." Frustration was a fiery thread in her tone_, _braided together with confusion. "I stayed awake all night — you know." She dashed at her cheeks and gave him a look as though to dare him mention she'd been crying. "I felt like I was in sixth year, all night."

"But I..."

Harry stopped himself. His hand found hers and held it tightly. She held him equally hard. Light from her lamp flickered and Harry thought about what she'd said. It wasn't necessarily about his safety or the safe house itself. It was about the reminder of everything they'd been through. As Harry could testify personally, those things weren't always rational. There had been a period of nightmares in the autumn after the war that they'd finally realized were rooted in him worrying that Hogwarts wasn't safe, that Ginny wasn't totally safe.

"It's not about my safety," said Harry.

Her thumb traced a pattern on his palm. "It's not _not _about it," said Ginny. "Being dead afraid you were going to be found is part of it, part of what I was feeling. Worrying if Snape was going to brag about it one morning at breakfast."

"He wouldn't have," Harry said.

She shot him a look. "I know that now, but I didn't know that then." She closed her eyes and rested her head against the headboard.

"You're right, that was stupid," Harry mumbled.

"I don't know why... it's just a _stupid _Ministry protocol and I've been telling myself that since your patronus showed up," said Ginny. Her eyes blinked open and Harry was relieved to see they were dry. "But it just... I get caught up remembering how it was and can't seem to stop the fear and worry and everything breaking over me. And I _know _it's just something that happens when you're an Auror."

Harry looked at her. Then he looked around the room, noting the open closet door and the fact that a couple of his own robes were hanging in there. No matter what Robards said, Harry had the feeling it would take the Ministry quite a while to relax their protocol. If it was this upsetting to her, then what was more important here? His job?

"Do you want me to quit?" Harry asked.

For a second she looked dumbfounded as though she'd just been hexed. "No!"

He eyed her uncertainly. Would he actually have quit the Aurors if she asked him to? Her tears had dried but there was redness around her eyes. Ginny just didn't get shaken by trivial things. Even though Harry placed no importance whatsoever on the sensory charms – he was perfectly safe – she did. Her _hands _had been shaking when she'd hugged him. He'd seen her charge into battle without batting an eyelash. In fact, he'd tried to _stop _her from flinging herself into dangerous situations.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't think you'd be happy if you weren't still trying to make sure nothing like Voldemort could happen again in your lifetime," said Ginny.

"There are other things I could do," Harry said. "Curse-breaking… something."

Ginny met his eyes. Harry was reminded of when he'd broken up with her his sixth year. It wasn't something he'd wanted to do. He'd wanted to lose her to his enemies even less. She'd understood him, then, and her words gave him no indication that she didn't understand him now. "Are you worried about the sensory charms?" he asked. "That someone could get to you through me."

"I couldn't give less of a—"

"Then _what_?"

"I keep _telling _you that I hate it when you go into hiding—"

"But it's not like it's real," Harry pointed out. He took her hands and chafed them in his. "It's just that stupid Ministry protocol. Everyone makes fun of it. It's nothing at all like having to go on the run from Voldemort."

Ginny sighed. For a long time, neither one of them spoke. Because he had no idea what to say in order to comfort her beyond what he already had, Harry had to rely on touch. His fingers went in her hair and stroked the long, silky strands. Gradually, she relaxed against him. Something inside him eased and he leaned his head back.

They'd work through this, just as they'd worked through his nightmares after the war.

The following Monday, Harry went into the office when all the other Aurors were leaving and approached Gawain Robards. "May I have a moment, sir?"

"Of course," Robards said genially, gesturing for Harry to sit down. "Would you like some tea?"

Harry shook his head. "No, thank you," he said. Then, a little more forcefully, he said: "I'd like not to have to go to a Ministry safe house every other week." It was doing damage to his relationship.

Robards's eyebrows rose slowly. "Every other week? Haven't you only experienced Ministry hospitality twice now?"

"Twice is enough," said Harry.

"I can't do anything about it," Robards said. "I told you that. I've been _trying, _but it takes a majority vote of the Wizengamot." He rolled his eyes. "It would take an act of Merlin himself to get them to agree to get rid of safety measures."

For the first time, Harry was tempted to open doors his fame created for him. He could see it: If he really put his foot down, went to _The Prophet… _he could put all sorts of pressure on the Wizengamot, and he was _tempted_. Harry shoved that aside. "Can't you talk to them again?" A thought struck him. "Could I have my own home listed as a safe house? It's under the Fidelius… no one can get there."

Robards eyed him and sat back in his chair. Harry thought it a good sign that he didn't immediately say no. There was a shrewd gleam in his eye. "Is this about a witch?"

Harry stared at him, confused. That wasn't what they were talking about, for Merlin's sake. "What do you mean, 'a witch'?" he said. It was fairly common knowledge that Harry was dating Ginny. Rita Skeeter mentioned them every other day, claiming they were engaged, secretly married, pregnant, or on the verge of breaking up. Robards had mentioned it several times. "You know I'm dating Ginny."

"I do know that," Robards said. "It just seemed like you forgot a moment. Forgive me if I'm wrong – I've never been all that keen on your love life—"

"—thank Merlin," Harry muttered, still finding it quite odd Robards brought it up in the first place.

"—but surely _some _of the stories in the papers are true," he said. "You were dating at Hogwarts and then left to go into hiding from Voldemort. Isn't a twenty-four hour period in a Ministry safe house kind of… unimportant after that?" He leaned forward in his chair and winked at Harry. "You didn't hear this from me, Harry, but if you wanted to figure out a way to get Ginny there with you, that's something your superiors would overlook." His smile widened.

Harry gave him an exasperated look. "Doesn't that defeat the point of the safe house in the first place? By bringing your loved ones with you?"

Robards spread his hands. "The Ministry moves in mysterious ways."

Harry left, thoughtful, and already considering how exactly he could get Ginny there with him. The tokens Robards gave out were one-time things, and there were safe houses scattered all over Britain. He stood in the lift and considered the problem. As he walked across the Ministry Atrium toward the fireplaces where he would floo to Grimmauld Place, his mind went over it again and again. It seemed like the solution to their problem. If Ginny could join him, wouldn't that make it better? She could see that he wasn't in any danger; she could have that reassurance.

By the time he got to Grimmauld Place, Harry had a list of questions for Hermione. Luckily, she was home and laughing with Ron over something or other in the den. "Hermione?" he called. "Can you teach me how to do the Protean charm?"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Ginny was opening the door to go out when Harry set foot on the small porch. There was an awkward moment when he reached out to knock but found himself face to face with her.

"Oh, hi!" she said, surprised. Harry peered at her closely before he gave her a kiss. Her eyes were bright and her smile open. The storm clouds of a few days before were long gone, and relief filled him.

"Hi," he said. His fingers were wrapped around her upper arms and his lips were very close to hers. It would take barely a moment to press them against hers again. Instead, he forced himself to take a step backward. "Were you going out?"

"Yeah, to the grocery," said Ginny. "I've run out of food… want to come?"

"Of course," said Harry.

He'd experienced some nerves during the process of creating the Protean charm. What if it didn't work? He hated seeing her like that, hated knowing that something he'd done had hurt her like that. Even if he didn't quite understand the source of it. As he'd spent the hours crafting the charm on his watch and then on a bracelet decorated with a snitch he'd bought for her, specifically for this purpose, he'd thought about it. Ginny understood him better than anyone else. Even when he'd broken up with her, she'd called his actions stupid and noble, but she'd understood.

This was different. If this didn't work – if giving her the ability to join him wherever he was, whenever that happened to be – Harry didn't know what to do except find some other sort of job. And honestly, that idea was more than a little nerve-wracking.

But her easy manner and affection soothed away some of his nerves. Her humor was back, and it was as though it had never bothered her in the slightest that Harry had gone into a Ministry safe house. As they both tossed in ingredients and ready-made food into the charmed basked that floated in front of them and adjusted its size whenever it needed to, Harry relaxed. By the time they were pooling sickles and knuts together and handing it to the cashier, Harry had nearly forgotten the objects he carried in his pocket.

Night had fallen by the time they left the grocery. Harry bundled their purchases under his arm and Ginny took his hand as they headed back to her house. The grocery was near to the Muggle side of Holyhead, but the further they walked, the more the sound of cars and blaring music receded in the distance.

Ginny tapped out the unlocking spell on her front door and Harry walked in after her. His gaze took in the familiar room. "Hey! You moved the tree out here." The tree he'd bought her was on her mantle right next to Damacles – in fact, the mandrake was positioned just so that it looked like—

"I didn't want it in my room anymore," said Ginny. "At least not until autumn is over with." She gave him a sidelong look.

Harry grinned sheepishly. "That's true, that was a little inconvenient." During a late night visit the night before last, Harry had been perhaps a little too enthusiastic. The headboard had rapped rhythmically against the wall with more and more force until the metal tree was rocking back and forth – it wouldn't have been a problem except that the metal leaves gathering at the roots kept spilling out over them.

He kicked his shoes off and followed her into the tiny kitchen to help her unload the bundle of groceries. His favorite ale went into the icebox, but not before he took one and sipped at it. Bit by bit, his nerves came back. As Ginny unloaded the last of the non-perishables into her pantry, Harry was leaning up against the counter, ale forgotten.

"All right, Harry," she said, looking over at him. "You've been… a little distracted the last few days." Her jaw firmed. "Are you angry with me?"

"No!" he said, surprised.

"Because I—"

"No, I'm not angry," Harry repeated, firmly. "I have something for you, actually…"

He took her hand and led her into the living room, where he sat on the small sofa with her. Without preamble, he took out the box that held her bracelet.

When she opened it, she looked up, shocked. "Jewelry?" she said. "A bracelet?"

Harry couldn't blame her. Most of his gifts to her were practical or related to Quidditch or something like the metal tree. This was probably the most traditional gift he'd ever given her. He made a note to do it again as she began to examine the bracelet, running her fingers over the snitch, and made a little murmur of approval. "It's beautiful," she said. There was still a hint of a question in her tone.

"I… put a charm on it. Several, actually," he said carefully. "Here – it's better to just demonstrate." Her eyebrows raised. Gently, he fastened the clasp of the bracelet around her wrist. The gold caught in the light of the lamp, mesmerizing him for a moment. Then he shook his head and held up Fabian Prewitt's old watch. The tip of his wand prodded at it; the stars and planets that moved across the face of it began to glow and spin. At the same moment, the snitch also began to glow and the wings fluttered.

"What—"

"It's a Protean charm," said Harry. He watched her very intently. "It creates a link between my watch and your bracelet. Whenever I touch my watch with my wand, you'll feel it—"

She leaned forward, eager. "Is this for when you're at one of those _wretched _safe houses?" There was a thread of real anger in her voice when she mentioned it, as though the very existence of them offended her. "We can communicate?"

"Oh," said Harry. "I guess communication might have been a better idea, but…"

"So what is it?"

He took her hand in his and brushed his thumb over her bracelet. The snitch's wings were still moving, though much slower. "It's – all you have to do is Apparate, and then you'll be where I am. I checked it," he added hastily when her mouth opened, but words didn't tumble out. "I checked it repeatedly. It works."

Her head bent over the bracelet. "I just… Apparate, and I can be with you," she said in a flat voice. Harry's stomach twinged until she looked up at him and he saw the wonder in them. "Even when you're in that – Ministry place."

"Especially then," Harry confirmed. Neither one of them said anything for a long, swelling moment. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but couldn't quite come up with the right thing. He didn't want to say that he understood why she'd found it so painful for him to be at the safe house – he didn't, not really. But he knew the pain was real, and wanted to do everything he could to mitigate it.

Her features hardened into that fierce, blazing look that he loved so much. "What if it's real?" she asked in a sharp voice. "What if you're ever – what if it isn't just some sensory charm and it's _real_?"

"Well, if it were real, I doubt I'd trust the Ministry to keep me safe," he said.

"But would you want me with you?" Ginny said. Her voice shook with intensity.

"Yes," Harry said. For more than one reason. If she were with him, he'd know for certain that he was doing everything to keep her safe. Not to mention how much he'd miss her if he had to leave her behind. But those words tangled his tongue, touched on something tender inside him, and caused his throat to tighten unexpectedly. "Yes, Gin. I would."

* * *

**Chapter 3: part three**

* * *

The third time Harry was sent to a safe house by Ministry protocol, everything changed.

Harry Apparated nearly on top of the tree and had to grab at it to keep himself upright. Rough bark scraped the skin of his hands but the real pain centered on his leg, where a gash bled profusely. He tapped a password against the bark and a door opened. Harry stumbled over the threshold and caught himself on the back of the chair.

The raid had not gone as expected.

Harry winced and took six deep, even breaths. _We did everything by the book, _he thought angrily, sliding around the chair and flinging himself into it. Rodolphus Lestrange's British estate had been gone over by Aurors. Wards had been set. Several different curses were countered as Harry'd walked through the maze of rooms. Rodolphus Lestrange had turned out to be a lot like other Death Eaters. They liked their estates to be rather ostentatiously magical, and this one had a few more traps than usual.

With a flick of his wand, Harry summoned a basket and set to work healing the wound on his leg. He poured a potion the color of parchment over the cut and hissed at how much it stung. "Fucking Death Eaters," he muttered.

The pain eased slowly over the next hour or so. At one point, Harry stripped down to his pants and wrapped a bandage around his upper thigh. It was only then that he gave the interior of this particular Ministry safe house more than a cursory glance. Not that he really had to — whether the bespelled location was hidden in a tree, a cave, a Muggle neighborhood, or a junkyard, they all looked the same. It had a bed, a chair, a table, a basket of food, and a small door that led to the tiniest of loos.

With a furtive glance at the door, Harry glanced down at his wrist. Fabian Prewett's battered old watch gleamed innocently up at him; the stars and planets revolving slowly around the face adjusted themselves as he tapped his wand against it. Once. Twice. And a third time. Mercury whizzed around at a dizzying speed and knocked into Neptune before it settled and a soft chime broke the silence in the room.

Three minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. Harry got to his feet, wincing at the pain that jolted through his leg, and hobbled over to the door. The moment he opened it, he had only the briefest of impressions of a mane a red hair, creamy skin with scattered freckles, and big brown eyes before Ginny flung herself into his arms. "Ginny," he murmured against her hair.

Her hands squeezed his shoulders. "Harry, I…"

"I know," said Harry. He nudged the door shut with his foot and caught her lips with his. Her hair was like silk as he slid his hand up to cup the back of her head. Her hands were restless, roving over him in a way that was part pleasure, part interrogation.

"You're hurt," she said.

"It's mending," he said.

But she drew back a little. There was a tiny furrow between her eyebrows and Harry kissed it. "I promise, it _is_ mending. But here — I know you want to see it for yourself."

"Damn right," said Ginny.

"Here, let me get your cloak," said Harry. "Wait, is that my cloak?"

She shrugged. "It was closest to the door when my bracelet began to glow." It was large on her; fabric spilled around her feet like a train. "But I'm still cold, so I'll keep it on for a bit longer."

Moments later, Harry was back in the chair and telling her exactly what had happened. Everything had gone so smoothly until he'd opened that last door. The sensory charms — there to alert Rodolphus to an intruder — had fallen on him, sticking to his hair, his robes, and even his shoes. While Harry's stomach had been sinking, contemplating a lonely night in a Ministry safe house – and, more importantly, worrying over Ginny's reaction – an enchanted wire had slashed across his leg. "Robards was right behind me," Harry finished. Her fingers slid under the bandage, undoing it, and her wand prodded at his wound.

"He sent you right out?" Ginny asked. In the dim light of the single lamp, her hair looked the color of embers. Harry leaned forward and inhaled, drawing in the flowery scent he so loved.

"Yeah," Harry said, wincing when the charms she was performing began to knit his flesh. "Just gave me the location and ordered me away."

"You did the charm right away," she murmured, holding up her snitch charm bracelet.

"I did," Harry confirmed.

Brown eyes met his and held them. They weren't damp with tears, nor did she seem angry. Relief pulsed through him. "I've figured out why I... have a hard time when this happens," Ginny said. His wound tingled and then blessed cool settled over it. She'd healed him the rest of the way, which was what Ginny generally did for him. Still, despite the tender moment, it didn't escape him that she was kneeling in front of him. Pleasure stirred low in his belly and it took him a moment to piece together what she'd said.

"You mean you don't just miss me?" Harry said, giving her a cheeky smile. An answering grin flickered across her face. Her thumb stroked along his thigh, idly, almost as though she weren't aware she was touching him.

"It goes back to me missing you," she said. She shifted and her hair brushed against him. "It... when you get sent off to one of these places, I can't help but think of Bill and Fleur's wedding... the way you just disappeared. And you know — I was in love with you then, but not... not like this."

"Like this?" he said, puzzled.

She waved her hand. Her gaze did not waver. "Together how we are." Her eyes flickered downward for half a breath and her thumb rubbed over his knuckles. "With your things mussing up my loo, your robes in my closet, and Damacles. Our tree… all of it. If you broke up with me now for some noble reason…"

"I never wanted to break up with you," Harry said quietly. "Never."

"I know," said Ginny. "I told you at the time that I understood. And I did."

"I know you did," said Harry. There had been that moment of perfect understanding between them. He squeezed her hands. "You're telling me you wouldn't be so understanding again."

She paused. Their eyes were tangled together. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying," she said simply. "In fifth year we dated three weeks. I understood what you had to do. Merlin knows I understand even more clearly now exactly why you had to do it. Those _Horcruxes_," she said. Hate suffused her tone and her gaze flicked up to his scar. "But I... I want reassurance that you aren't going to make that choice again." She held up her snitch charm. "I want to know that even if something dire came up, if you were facing a threat and had to go into hiding, or — or something similar, you really would want me to come to you."

"It's about breaking up," he said. Wonder — absurd as that was — suffused him. "You're worried I'd get involved in something dangerous and feel like I needed to break up with you."

She lifted her shoulder. Her look was direct. "Do you blame me?"

He thought about that. "No," he said. "Especially not with the safe house thing bringing it up all over again." He shook his head and let his fingers tighten around hers. "In a lot of ways I feel like everything with Voldemort — it was ending a fight that started on Halloween when he killed my parents. You know what I think about the wording of the prophecy."

She nodded. "'Neither can live while the other survives,'" she quoted.

"Right," said Harry. "How could I really live with a bit of him in me? But it's over."

"It's a dangerous job, being an Auror," Ginny said. "And you have that noble streak..."

"I'm not going to sacrifice you," said Harry, trying to make it plain to her. "People have sacrificed everything for me, I've honored that, I try to live up to it. But my dad didn't go off fighting. He didn't leave my mum and me to keep us safe." He let out a small laugh. "I'm not making sense. But I'm not going to take anything on that means I'd have to give you up." The idea of it made his chest feel tight. "My life with you is _my life_. I'm not going to sacrifice that. You. Us."

Her hands slid out of his and cupped his jaw. "You mean that," she said.

"Of course I do," said Harry.

For half a moment, he expected her to kiss him. It was what generally happened when they were this close to one another. So it surprised him when she stood and used her wand to conjure three small swirls of light. Their subtle beams caught in her hair, making it shine, and for the space of a few breaths, Harry was transfixed. Then she undid his cloak, let it fall to the ground to pool at her feet, and he nearly swallowed his tongue.

All she wore underneath were a few wispy bits of lace that couldn't _possibly _be held up by anything but magic. Her skin looked especially pale against the black that concealed hardly anything at all. His eyes drifted between her breasts, lingering on each for quite some time, before he looked down to see matching knickers. He licked his lips. "You're giving me a reward, then?" he said hoarsely.

"A thank you," she said. "For drawing that line for me. I needed to hear you say it." Her eyes gave a tiny roll, and color came to her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I—"

It pleased Harry that she'd known that he would draw that line for her. He reached for her and pulled her closer, so he could kiss the tender spot just above her navel. "Don't apologize," he said. "You don't need to."

"I was quite the watering pot," she said. "I bet you thought I'd turned into Cho…"

"Never," he said. "You don't cry over everything, do you? If you do, I know it's serious. And besides, you're not Cho, you're Ginny." He thought he could handle her tears if it meant he could also be around when she laughed. When he told her this, she made a sound in the back of her throat and kissed him, hard, dropping into his lap and gripping his hair.

His blood ignited.

She banished his clothes with a twist of her wand. When she made to do the same to her lingerie, Harry protested. "No, wait!" he said. He squeezed her bum in his hands, enjoying the feel of the rough lace against his palms.

"It's a little difficult to have sex with knickers on," she told him.

"Let me do it?" Harry asked.

His arousal pulsed in his veins; his erection pointed upward toward his belly, urged even harder by her fingers circling it, squeezing it, and rubbing the tip. But Harry ignored this in favor of looking at her. Trying to take it off was like trying to pull apart a cloud, Harry realized. The lace wasn't quite solid, kept slipping through his fingers. He didn't mind – whenever he pulled at the cloudy lace, it did interesting things to his view. He kept having to press kisses against a freckle here, an exposed aureole there…

"You're enjoying this too much," she said with breathless amusement.

"So are you," Harry said. She was rocking against his leg; he could feel how hot she was. The heat increased when he took her nipple in his mouth – magical lace and all – and suckled on it and laved it with his tongue. Her slim fingers squeezed his erection in a tight grip. But Harry's attention was focused pretty tightly on her breasts… they were particularly brilliant tonight… It was some time before he noted, idly, that in the cloud of black lace that revealed and concealed and drove him nearly mad – in the _best _possible way – there was a thread of silver.

"Ah," Ginny moaned when the lace fell away and drifted down to the floor. "You found the silver lining."

"Weren't you the one who taught me how?" Harry asked, meaning the lace but also everything else. It didn't take him much time to find the silver lining on her knickers. "I'm going to play with those, too, but not tonight," he promised. They would have time, later, for Harry to give the lacy knickers the same attention he had the bra. "Where on earth did you get these? Did you _make _them?"

"I bought them from Carn Alley," she said.

"They're brilliant," Harry said. They were squirming together, nearly too impatient to fit their bodies together properly. But the tip of his erection found her slick heat, and then he was entering her. There were no more words. Ginny lowered herself down on him with one sure movement. Their eyes were locked together, and there was no charm in the world that would make Harry look away.

His hands gripped her hips and he helped her find a rhythm that made pleasure sweep over his entire body. There was so much about life with Ginny that he wouldn't give up; sex was only part of it. But at the moment, it was the most visceral part, and he held her a little tighter, watched her a little more intently, and _felt _a little deeper than he normally did. She matched him in intensity.

Her hair threaded around his fingers. "Never," he said, toward the end.

Her eyelids flickered closed for a moment. Their lips met. His promise seemed to reverberate through the room, seemed to imbue their love-making with an extra spice.

When it was over, and they lay nestled together like spoons in the small, Ministry-provided bed, Harry was still marveling over it. "I'm glad you came tonight," he said, entwining his fingers with hers.

"You usually make me come," she said wickedly.

He squeezed her and chuckled against her hair. "What do you mean, _usually_? No, I meant… I'm glad you're here with me. I'm glad we've got that sorted."

"You mean, you're glad I figured out why I was so mental?"

"Nope," he said, with the great good cheer he usually felt after an orgasm. And this one had been particularly good. "I'm glad we've got it sorted that you're never getting rid of me…"

She turned in his arms. There was a small smile curving up the corner of her lips. "Never?"

"Never," Harry said. It was another promise that seemed to fill up the entire space of the room. It felt right. "I'm not going anywhere. And if I have to, I'll need you to come with me. You wouldn't make me go alone, would you?"

"Never," she echoed. "Never, ever."


End file.
